


Staring at the Walls

by Jannineish



Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: April Showers Challenge, DIY, Established Relationship, M/M, re-modeling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-30
Updated: 2013-04-30
Packaged: 2017-12-10 01:16:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/780092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jannineish/pseuds/Jannineish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Recently having moved in together, Mycroft notices that his lover is becoming more and more distracted and spacey- staring at walls for minutes on end, finding the ceiling particularly interesting. It was worrisome, and Mycroft feared that Greg was doubting their relationship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Staring at the Walls

**Author's Note:**

  * For [chasingriver](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chasingriver/gifts).



> Sorry it's late; I got it stuck in my thick head that posting day was the 30'th for some reason.   
> Also, sorry it's kinda short, but sometimes things demand to be ended in a particular place.   
> Unbeta'd. Feel free to let me know if I've screwed up, royally or otherwise.

Within two weeks of moving in to their new home, Mycroft found Greg drifting off into space more and more. It was becoming commonplace to find his lover glaring at walls for minutes on end, or laying on his back seemingly contemplating the ceiling. 

It was worrisome, of course. They hadn’t been together more than a year or so, the whole thing being a bit of a whirlwind, and since buying the house, things had been absolutley hectic- but everything seemed to calm down when they finally moved in- Sherlock found the missing link and solved the case Greg had been on, Mycroft wrote up a compromise to keep his country on the good side of some other government, and things were settling down. This would be a perfectly normal time to begin doubting the seriousness of one’s relationship. Which, it seemed, Greg had begun doing.

Mycroft must’ve lost track of time worring; not uncommon. It had been nearly and hour till Greg was due home when he’d sat down, and the detective was normally late anyway, yet here he stood, in the middle of their living room, grumbing about something or other.

“I can’t beleive them, those bastards, running off without telling anybody a thing. And then they have the gall to call us when they get themselves into a pickle!! But their good- caught they guy, so we all got to go home half-an-hour early on this lovely Friday Mycroft have you heard a word I said?”

“Eh? Oh, yes, of course. Sherlock and John caused an inconvinence once again, but it all turned out ok and your home early. Splendid. I think we ought to talk, dear.”

Greg looked dumbfounded, but to his credit, nodded along. “Hold that thought, I’ll put the kettle on.”

Mycroft relaxed into the couch. Confused, not guilty. He may have been considering their relationship, but he either hadn’t been doubting it, or had determined that his doubts were ill-founded. Or he could have been thinking about something else entierly. 

Greg wandered back into the sitting room a few seconds later, plunking himself on the oposing end of the couch as his partener, facing him. “The water will boil soon. Pot’s set. What’s up, Love?”

“You.” Mycroft frowned. “You have been… Drifting off.. a good deal lately. I was worried you were doubting us. This. But it has come to my attention that any doubts you had, you’ve dissmissed, and that means I have no idea what has left you so pre-occupied with the ceiling and walls.”

Greg paused to absorb the words, then chuckled. “No, not doubting us at all. Simply put, I am so pre-occupied with the walls because I’ve been doubting them. In case it has escaped your attention, which I find highly unlikely, this house needs a bit of work. I’d like to be able to do it myself- I used to spend summers working in constrution when I was a teen, did you know?- and it’s always been a dream to have a home I could work on. Now that I do, I’ve realized that, short of weekends, I don’t have the time, and some things that need doing will take more than just a weekend.”

Mycroft had relaxed dramatically at his expenation, and now was nodding along somberly; thou inside, he was kicking himself- he’d assumed his lover had been drifting off into space when staring at the walls, but he hadn’t; he’d actually been staring at the walls. Odd thought, that. 

Greg huffed. “The only way I can see that panning out is if I drop to part-time. I’m nearly 60, and it’s not like we’re hurting for money, but that would mean I’d get slower, boring cases, and have a smaller team- and Sherlock would likely continue to dissregard the concept of ‘days off’ anyways, so.. I’m not sure if I want to do that, but I know I’ll have to sooner or later- the stress gets to me, and in older age I’m not handling it so well. I know John’s trying to get Sherlock to work a bit less-” Mycroft’s face transformed to a look of horror-“Not quit, just work less- It’s hard on them too. I don’t know; what do you think I should do?” Gred posed the question before fleeing to turn off the screaming kettle and pour the tea, leaving his lover to ponder the situation while he arranged a tea service on one of Mycroft’s redicoulsly lavish trays. 

Carefully walking back into the room, he deposited the tray on the coffee table before curling up on the couch and taking Mycroft’s feet in his hands, rubbing them thouroughly. “I’m sorry I worried you with my distractedness. I’m not considering giving you up at all, thou, and I wish you’d stop thinking I am.” 

Mycroft raised his head to glare gently, and opend his mouth to respond, but he didn’t get a word in. 

“I know, I know, it’s not something you have full power over, and really, you’re self-worth has raised so dramatically since we’ve been together I’m not complaining at all. Wish I may, wish I might, but you just move at your own pace, and that’s good enough for me.” 

Mycroft smile lightly. “Thankyou. You give me too much, but thank you.” 

Greg scoffed as he fixed two cups of tea, handing one to his love, and pulled the laptop out of the drawer in the coffee table. Opening it, he pulled up a folder on the desktop that had pictures of colors and prints stored in it. “First thing first- Do you think we should use wallpaper, or paint? Or maybe different things for each room? That’s why I kept both in the same folder- makes it easier if we choose to do that. Now, I’m partial to bright obnoxious colors, so make your opinions clear, or you’ll have a beautiful lime green kitchen.”

Mycroft laughed, and curled into Greg’s side to get a good veiw of the screen. “Wallpaper for bedrooms. And, if you don’t mind, I’d like to get some wainscoating put in in the kitchen and bathrooms- maybe even in here..”

Greg made a face that told anyone that the chances of that were slim, and dug his feet into the crack between couch cushions. “As long as I can choose the colors of the rooms you do that to, sure thing.”

 

\--Three months later--

Mycroft was cooking dinner for some buisness assosiates he actually liked in a chartruse kitchen that smelled of paint and fresh wood- Greg had dropped to part-time, and insisted on making the wainscoating himself. Mycroft had convinced him to paint it a tastefull off-white.

Greg was entertaining his partener’s friends in a sitting room that was painted a light tanish pink. There were three large, bright, colorful paintings on the walls, and one vintage china cabnit, in which various trinkets and small decorations sat. In one wall was a lovely brick fireplace, which had been plastered over by the previous owners the house. Atrocious.

The other rooms of the house were an intersting mix of ways of decorating- each had a distinct feel- yet they all worked together nicely. There had been some trying moments and sharp words throuout the process of decorating the house, and Greg did his share of groaning that he was putting in most the work, but in the same breath he’d make wild threats of what was to come if Mycroft so much as touched the paint stuff or power tools, and everything was always fine in the end. They made quite sure to never go to bed angry, and if that meant working things out on the kitchen table with minimal clothes, so be it. Neither was complaining.


End file.
